


Unstable, On A Precipice

by Smol_Bean_Babe



Category: BioShock
Genre: Andrew Ryan is a terrible father, Atlas and Fontaine are different people, Atlas is a cheeky bastard, Frank Fontaine is a terrible father, Gen, Jack is six, Jack's last name is Ryan-Jolene, Jasmine Jolene is a good mom, Modern AU, No Rapture AU, brigid also has a cat, brigid has like twenty kids in her home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smol_Bean_Babe/pseuds/Smol_Bean_Babe
Summary: In which Jack, last name Ryan-Jolene, was whisked away with his mother, Jasmine Jolene, to escape an abusive father. Disquiet settles in the dust.





	1. In Not So Loving Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Jasmine and Jack are the best family, and Andrew Ryan can eat my whole ass.

"You bitch," Ryan had hissed as Jack squirmed behind his mother's skirts. "You _cunt."_  
  
Jack Ryan-Jolene was the bastard son of a son of a bitch. The son of a dime-a-dozen whore.  
  
Jack Ryan-Jolene was six years old when he found out why his daddy hated him _so much._  
  
And Jasmine Jolene was that reason.  
  
She was Ryan's favorite girl, the queenie of the whorehouse who ran from commitment.  
  
But, other than that, she was Jack's momma.  
  
But our story, the _real_ story, starts in the back of a cab with Jack cuddled up to Jasmine, his sandy-brown flop of hair guiding his fringe into his eyes.  
  
There was a word for this, Jack knew; a word for running from trouble when it got too great. Cowardice?  
  
That sure _sounded_ right.  
  
He asked anyway, his big brown eyes wide and searching as he asked his momma if she knew what the word cowardice meant.  
  
"Well, Jackie," she had started, cradling his shoulders against her hip and brushing his hair out of his eyes, "Your daddy, telling you he don't want nothing to do with you. That's what a coward is."  
  
Jack... Hadn't really understood. Hell, the kid could barely _remember_ his daddy saying that, didn't want to even if he could.  
  
But there was still a comfort in his momma knowing something and telling him. Being comfortable enough, relying in him enough, that she'd teach him something new.  
  
There was still another question, though. There always would be.  
  
"Momma?" Jack asked, his gaze flicking from his mother's eyes to the cab floor to the world outside. It whizzed by, abandoning Jack to his own devices.  
  
"Yes, baby?" Jasmine's voice was much different from Jack's. It was mature, and carried with it the air of a wounded woman. A wounded _animal,_ even.  
  
Jack liked his momma's voice.  
  
"Where are we going?" The question was straight, simple, and to the point. Jasmine seemed to preen for a moment, as if proud of her son for being brave enough to ask questions without reservation.  
  
"Do you remember auntie Brigid, sweetheart?"  
  
Jack felt a tinge of familiarity—maybe in the german accent that carried in the words in his memory. _No hugs goodbye, Maddie,_ the voice prodded, stern but motherly, _Jack doesn't want hugs._  
  
"Tenebaum?"  
  
He said it like _ten-ee-bomb,_ three words instead of one.  
  
A smile graced Jasmine's face, lighting her eyes as she stared down at her son. That was how Jack knew he was right.  
  
"But of course, honey. You get to see Maddie again, and Eden, and Lacy..."  
  
It wasn't even a moment later that Jack fell asleep against the shiny leather seats—and his mother's thigh, but that's besides the point—his snores rumbling against the faux leather beneath him.  
  
  
**Jack was laying on the ground, on asphalt, with his mother right beside him. Her chest rose and fell in even beats.  
**   
**There was noise pumping in and out of Jack's field of hearing, something that made his chest rumble and his knees quake. His mother breathed beside him, her eyes fluttering shut.  
**   
**A wail, and Jack's breath rammed against his chest. Dark lights pulsed in the sky, crackling like veins in the night, and Jack's eyes burned with the pops of colors.  
**   
**_Jack, Jack. Wake up, we're here_**


	2. Of Loving Still When Hope Is Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds a new friend, and a new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord i was looking through the jasmine jolene tag and saw my own work and was all like 'huh'

Jack started awake, bleary and whining as he felt his body being rocked back and forth against... Something.  
  
"Jack," Jasmine murmured, shaking him with one hand. She was supporting him with the other, cradling him in her arms.  
  
"Hm?" Jack shifted in his mother's hold, shoving an arm to block the light from his eyes. Jasmine chuckled, eyes alight.  
  
"We're here, honey. Brigid's getting your bed ready."  
  
"What time is it," Jack said. His eyes narrowed as he watched his mother fuss with her hair. He rather liked his momma's hair; he wished she'd stop mussing it up.  
  
"It's, ah," Jasmine, looked away, twirling a lock of hair into her fist, "Just after midnight, Jackie."  
  
"Where's daddy?"  
  
Oh no, Jack realized. She's not smiling.  
  
Jack grimaced as a big, fat tear rolled down her face.  
  
In fact, Jack's momma was trying _desperately_ not to start wailing, though for a completely different reason than Jack would've guessed.  
  
She was crying for Jack, not because of him. Crying for all those days he'd never get back, cried for that patch of skin on his thigh that never healed properly because Andrew was too proud to go to the hospital. She cried for Jack's little teddie, Delta, who they'd had to leave behind.  
  
She cried for her baby boy.  
  
This was when Brigid came in, followed by three almost identical little girls who all helped Jack down.  
  
As they walked away, Jasmine cried for her son—only six years old and already hated—and Jack began to cry, too.  
  
He gripped the hem of his sweater, realizing only now that he wanted Delta.  
  
••••  
It was three nights later that Jack found the cat. She was... Large, for lack of a better term, with wide blue eyes and black-and-white fur.  
  
As Jack trundled towards her, his gangly limbs flailing like a baby giraffe's should, she had trilled a meow.  
  
Her paws worked the carpet underneath her when Jack patted the top of her head.  
  
"What's your name?" Jack had settled back on his feet, perfectly content in calling her Cat for the rest of her life.  
  
She butted her head up against his hand, standing. Jack felt like a _god,_ or at the very least a really popular king. The cat meowed at him, opening her eyes to stare openly.  
  
Jack smiled, blinking twice. She purred for a few breaths, blinking twice as well.  
  
This was the first wordless conversation of many with Cat.  
  
But, coming back to the end of the first exchange, she'd ran away from Jack, leaving him to reach after her in protest.  
  
Jasmine walked up behind him, her sock feet papping the floor silently.  
  
Jack almost shrieked when she reached down and ruffled his hair.  
  
"Dinner's on, Jackie," she wrapped an arm around Jack's too-small shoulders, "Auntie Brigid made chicken."  
  
Jack hissed through his teeth, looking back at Jasmine with round eyes. Cat was gone—no sign of her—when he looked over his shoulder, and he pouted as his mother pulled him along behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments, concerns, and opinions are always welcome and cherished! Also, please point out grammar mistakes when you find them.


	3. When Speaking And Sadness Clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God i love my son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet bejeebus was this one hard to write (hence why it's so short) but i managed to pull through, somehow,

Jack was walking along the parameters of the house, Cat trotting along behind him and meowing when he stopped. His eyes scanned the dusty ground before him, combing the soil for shiny things—glass shards, coins, and the like.  
  
Eden and Masha began to yell for him just as he bent to nab a quarter.  
  
Cat had skittered away, her tail flicking into the shadows behind her.  
  
Masha had skidded to a stop just before Jack, her hands twisting in her dress as she rocked on her bare heels. She was smiling.  
  
Jack didn't like the girls' smiles.  
  
"Mama Tenenbaum said that you need to come in and talk to Dr.Suchong," Eden crowed, her blonde hair swishing across her face as she spoke.  
  
"And Auntie Jolene says that you need to wash up afterwards. We're going to the movies." Masha brushed her short locks away from her forehead.  
  
Jack stood there, his small frame seeming to shrink in on itself. He wanted to cry, his eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall.  
  
As he walked in, he looked around the house.  
  
It seemed that every single time he walked into Aunt Brigid's house was a new breath of fresh air, it was always so clean and... Foreign. That was a good word.  
  
He wished that Delta could see it.  
  
 _Oh no,_ Jack thought, eyes finally landing on Dr.Suchong's massive form, _I'm about to cry again._  
  
"Hello, Jack. I have heard from your mother that you are feeling ill." Suchong's back was hunched a bit, his neck craning forward as he peered down his nose at Jack. His eyes were angled, and so brown they were black.  
  
Jack decided that he didn't like Dr.Suchong's eyes, either. They were too dissimilar from his Momma's, or Aunt Brigid's. Too dark when they looked at him.  
  
His chest throbbed underneath the wife-beater that he wore, and he swallowed as he stared up at the man.  
  
"I think you are mute, as well. Can he not speak?"  
  
Jack's fists bunched at his sides. He wouldn't talk to Dr.Suchong. Never ever _ever_ talk to Dr.Suchong.  
  
Those dark eyes turned away from him, to Jasmine.  
  
"My baby can talk. He just don't like you. Maybe be a bit _nicer_ to them and the kids'd talk to ya." Momma spoke evenly and pleasantly, a far-cry from the already-agitated tone that Dr.Suchong was taking with the group.  
  
A noise clucked out of Suchong's throat, and he turned to Jack.  
"He does not cough, sneeze, or have high fever..." The doctor began, eyes narrowing and nose scrunching up, "He eats well and is outgoing. He is fine."  
  
Jack had a sneaking suspicion that that was just what Momma had told Dr.Suchong about him. He never really gave any sign of being outgoing to Momma, even if he had talked to the little girls under Brigid's care. Those were family.  
  
And if there was one thing Jack was sure of, it was that you _always_ trusted family.  
  
Suchong stood, his gaze leaving Jack for good.  
  
"I will be taking my leave now, good day," he growled.  
  
Jack blew out an exaggerated breath when Suchong was gone. As he turned to go to the stairs and get his sweater, Jasmine shook her head.  
  
"That was _amazing,_ Jackie," she said, clapping her hands together. She was positively _beaming_ down at Jack, her eyes sparkling.  
  
Jack grinned, clasping his hands behind his back.  
  
"Thanks, momma," he said, scampering up the staircase to his room, ready to go to the movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characterization, spelling, and grammatical errors should be pointed out to the source material please!!


	4. Easy? If You Say So...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and his family go to the movies. Things happen. No one likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot stress, lately. Sorry for the wait!! Oh, and please please PLEASE, go look at my book! It's called 'Dreams of Rotting Teeth' and it's on Wattpad. Thanks always!

Jack buttoned up his sweater-vest, letting Edie slick his hair back clumsily.  
  
He spared a glance for the gift on his bed--his first real birthday present!--and grinned sheepishly.  
  
Inside, he knew, was a new Delta. One with wings instead of a drill, and a beak instead of a diver's helmet, but it was still Delta.  
  
Jack was hyper-focused on the gift, so much so that he didn't notice when Edie's hands curled away from his hair, her tiny voice whispering 'done!'  
  
Jack turned back to the mirror, standing a little taller. His bony chest poked out, bones clearly visible.  
  
Self-conscious, he flattened out his sweater and caved his chest so that no-one could see.  
  
"Jackie! Come on down, sweetheart!"  
  
Jack smiled, stepping down from the little bathroom stool.  
  
Edie followed Jack into the next room, followed by Sally and Masha.  
  
Jack fretted over his sleeves for a moment, looking down at his hands as if they were strangers--the tattoos along his inner wrists showed red and puffy along the edges, still not properly healed.  
  
"Coming, Mama!"  
  
Jack ran into the living room, skidding to a stop before he could have rammed into Jasmine's side.  
  
Jasmine looked down at her son with a look that spoke proud. She grinned down at her boy, petting his hair tenderly.  
  
"I knew you'd look dapper, Jackie," She spoke softly.  
  
Jack puffed his chest proudly, again, grinning widely as he watched his mama move through all the rest of the house.  
  
She was turning off lights as she went, looping around the entire house as she made sure to get everything they needed.  
  
"'Ey, Brigid! We're leavin' now, hon, c'mon!"  
  
Jack turned to the stairs, watching the top of them. Two rooms split off to the sides at the top; one of them, he knew, was Aunt Tenenbaum's bedroom.  
  
There was a soft noise of approval as Brigid began to come out.  
  
Masha gasped from her place beside Jack. Edie grabbed onto Jack's 'sweatered' arm. Kaitlyn shifted her feet, movements small as she watched her mama walk down the stairs.  
  
Brigid looked lovely, Jack pondered--a black dress under a dark grey jacket, a blue clip in her hair.  
  
Thin, small sunglasses perched upon the bridge of her nose.  
  
Jack smiled wide, nodding. Even if he didn't have a say in what she wore, the boy wanted Aunt Tenenbaum to know that she looked great.  
  
They were all quick to leave the house after that, Jack's many sisters all skipping over the walkway leading to the driveway.  
  
A less-than-formal shove got Jack into Brigid's truck, his gangling limbs tangling over one another.  
  
"Now, what'd we say Jack?"  
  
Jack grinned. He knew the answer to this one!  
  
"Anyone tries anything, clock 'em."  
  
Jasmine nodded, eyes lit up with pride as she looked at her son with seemingly new eyes.  
  
As the truck chugged down the road, Jack hummed a quiet song to himself--one, beat, two.  
  
**  
  
Jasmine and Brigid both ended up with a lapful of toddlers and snacks--and _not_ because of an overly-full theater.  
  
Jack hopped in place in his seat beside Jasmine, staring up at the screen with wide brown eyes.  
  
The lady in the movie was very, very nice--and the man was very pretty.  
  
It was easy to lose track of the pacing of the film, obviously--Jack was a boy of culture, but that didn't stop his attention span from being shot--and it was a tad boring in the middle, so Jack found his gaze wandering to the other patrons.  
  
Down in the front, Jack's eyes caught on the wide-eyed gaze of another boy. And a girl.  
  
The boy had stark black hair, with a cowlick up front--the rest was slicked back smartly.  
  
The girl had pretty ashy-brown hair, dark and chestnut in the light of the movie. Her eyes were big and doe-ish, though they had the same icy color that the boy's eyes did.  
  
Sitting next to the boy was a thin, lanky man with a gleaming bald head, who Jack couldn't look at for long before he started feeling bad.  
  
Next to the girl was a broad-shouldered man with choppy sideburns and a leather-y sweater-vest that Jack thought looked soft.  
  
Jack saw the boy turn to the bald man, asking him something quietly. The bald man answered, polite but still curt, and then turned to watch Jack stare.  
  
Jack's awestruck gaze fell, and he shifted his feet fearfully as he waited for the man to start shouting.  
  
He never did, though. And as Jack looked up, he found the girl and boy advancing on him, their parents both watching Jack intently. The boy's father was watching Jack with a peculiar expression, one that said 'I know you, but from where?' and the girl's father was looking at Jack with eyes that could kill.  
  
When the boy got to Jack, he leaned over, smiling wide.  
  
"Come sit with us!" The girl exclaimed, grabbing Jack's shoulder.  
  
Jack squirmed in his seat, and looked up at Jasmine. She turned, smiling sweetly as she whispered:  
  
"Go on with 'em, Jackie. I'll watch ya from here, alright?"  
  
And so, Jack lifted himself out of his seat—and _wow,_ was he short compared to the other two—and followed the boy and girl back to their seats.  
  
They sat a row back from where the boy and girl's parents were, with Jack sitting between the two. The girl's father turned to Jack, and then looked down at the girl, saying, "Now you better be polite to him, Elizabeth. You don't wanna scare him off, do you?"  
  
 _Elizabeth,_ Jack's mind echoed, _Elizabeth is a very pretty name._  
  
The boy's father turned to Elizabeth's, scowling.  
  
"I don't see why you talk ta her like that. Atlas's turning out just fine, and I don't coddle him, do I?"  
  
The boy piped up, eyes downcast.  
  
"No, ya don't, sir."  
  
Jack decided that _Atlas_ sounded prettier than _Elizabeth,_ on no other pretense than Atlas's pretty voice.  
  
Jack squirmed as Elizabeth's father turned his gaze on him.  
  
"Now, either of them start anything, you tell me."  
  
And he turned around.  
  
Jack was _decidedly_ less stressed when Elizabeth started pointing out Atlas's repeated 'heavy breathing,' and then he was caught in a crossfire of light insults.  
  
"Well, 'least my da don't smell like a dumpster fire!"  
  
"My father doesn't sound like a cartoon villain."  
  
"I don't look like a frog!"  
  
Elizabeth turned to Jack, eyes wide.  
  
"I don't look like a frog, do I Jack?"  
  
Jack shrank back, tilting his head.  
  
Atlas leaned in to whisper in Jack's ear, "Tell 'er she does."  
  
Jack jumped, shaking his head and mouthing, 'no, no.'  
  
Elizabeth relaxed, smiling and primping her hair daintily.  
  
Suddenly, Atlas made a noise from behind Jack. The boy leaned forward, resting his thick arms on the back of the chair in front of him.  
  
"So, how'd _you_ know his name? 'Cause I sure didn't."  
  
Elizabeth shrugged, turning back to the movie.  
  
"His mother said his name—you know, Atlas, if you actually _listened—"_  
  
Jack laughed, quietly, at the entire display. It was quite—how would he say it?—fascinating.  
  
Elizabeth turned to Jack, grinning widely.  
  
She turned to her father, tapping him on the shoulder.  
  
"Booker, can Jack stay the night, too? Pleeeeease?"  
  
Booker turned, taking one look at Jack and saying, 'sure, kid.'  
  
Elizabeth turned to Jack, eyes wide and happy.  
  
Jack, by comparison, was so happy he could throw up. Two new friends—and one of them wanted him to spend the night!  
  
As the theater-goers collectively stood, Jack's mother walked up, Tenenbaum already leading the girls away. Jasmine was smiling happily.  
  
"A little birdie told me that you were goin' ta visit with your new friends," She said happily, "Have fun."  
  
Booker nodded, and Atlas's father said, "Noon tomorra, kid," and left.  
  
Booker reached out to offer a hand to Jasmine, smirking.  
  
"Booker Dewitt. Pleasure to meet'cha, miss," he said nicely.  
  
"Jasmine Jolene, and the pleasure's all mine. Thanks for lettin' Jackie visit," And Mama took Booker's hand.  
  
"Firm handshake. No offense, ma'am." Booker turned to lead Elizabeth and Atlas away, letting Jack some time alone to say 'bye' to his Mama.  
  
"None taken, sir."  
  
Jasmine leaned down to hug Jack goodbye, petting his hair.  
  
"I'm so happy, Jackie," She whispered, sniffing sadly, "You got new friends! Now go have fun, I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Just as Jack turned, Jasmine stuffed a paper into his hands, whispering, 'give this to Mr. Dewitt.'  
  
When Jack scampered back to the three people waiting on him, he did hand the paper to Booker. He unfolded the paper, squinting down at it suspiciously.  
  
"Ahhh," He said, stuffing the paper into his pocket, "A phone number."  
  
And, without another word, the group left the theater.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, yeah. I really really liked this chapter.


	5. Maybe Being Read To Ain't So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to his new friend's house, and meets some old... Acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published in a dark corner of my grandmother's house after sitting in my notes for... hm. A month? Sorry for the delay, all. Dreadfully so.

Jack sat in the back of Booker's car, his eyes glued to the road as Atlas and Elizabeth bickered in the seat next to him.  
  
Elizabeth would knuckle-punch Atlas in the side, and he would charlie-horse her back. She'd squeal, and Atlas would cackle, and they'd fuss over each other for a second.  
  
And then, as if on impulse, one of them would pinch or prod or even _punch_ the other.  
  
Booker's eyes met Jack's, and Jack had to look away. That bright, pretty blue felt like ice in Jack's veins, even when Elizabeth and Atlas and even he, himself, held the same gaze--but theirs, and his, were like winter thaws. Booker's was like a first freeze.  
  
That didn't mean that Jack didn't _like_ Booker; on the contrary. Jack thought the man a nice, kind gentleman. He was of gentle spirits and wide smiles. He would grin at Jack lop-sidedly, and he would scruff up Elizabeth's hair. He'd shaken Jack's hand, calling him a 'respectable kid.'  
  
So, no. Jack didn't dislike Booker. He was just so, so scared of those eyes--those eyes that were too much his father's.  
  
Softer were the hazel eyes of his mother, or the left eye of himself. They were solid, they were kind and sweet as they looked at you. They didn't lie about loving you.  
  
Blue eyes like Booker's lied.  
  
Blue eyes like Atlas's wept.  
  
Jack shifted back on his hips, wiggling his little legs as much as he could without disturbing the man in front of him.  
  
Atlas and Elizabeth, however... They couldn't _not_ be disturbed. As soon as Jack moved, Atlas had pulled him into the roughhousing, poking the side of Jack's neck and yelling: "I'm not touching you!"  
  
Jack laughed a bit, ducking his head and running hands through his hair.  
  
"But you are?"  
  
Elizabeth is shaking her head at Atlas, huffing and pulling him off of Jack.  
  
"Hush it, Atlas. You're so annoying," She insists as she pulls Atlas back.  
  
Atlas laughs lightly, shaking his head.  
  
"Jack, was I botherin' ya?" The Irish accent that dripped in every word made Jack want to smile wide.  
  
Jack shook his head, grinning lightly even as he did.  
  
Elizabeth makes a noise that's halfway between 'ugh!' and 'nooo,' which Atlas thinks is endlessly funny.  
  
"You sounded like a bloody cow! Moooooo," Atlas says humorously.  
  
Elizabeth huffs, face flushing with her anger.  
  
"At least I don't sound like a fat barn-cat with his legs tied up!"  
  
"No, ya don't--you sound like a little sheep with her wool off'n winter. Ba-ah, ba-ah," Atlas shoots back, grinning.  
  
"Yeah, well--you look like a fish without his scales on!"  
  
"You look like yer father!"  
  
"You _sound_ like yours!"  
  
The car's engine stalled, and Booker turned in his seat to chide Elizabeth and Atlas.  
  
"Alright, both of you needa stop fighting. You're scaring Jack."  
  
Jack tilted his head to the side, blinking rapidly as confusion swamped him. He wasn't scared!  
  
Atlas turned to Jack, though, and nodded.  
  
"Alright, sir--we'll calm down," He said amiably, grinning at Booker. His cheeks, which were gaunt for a seven-year-old child, puffed out noticeably as he pouted at Jack--although, there was humor in his eyes.  
  
Elizabeth was smiling widely, her eyes glowing as she looked at Jack.  
  
Booker let the kids out of the back of his truck, into the parking lot of an apartment complex. As Jack watched, a few of the windows flared to life; it was probably because of the noise.  
  
Jack smiled up at the giant building, watching people moving in their homes, even if they were small and compact.  
  
The sun was dipping behind the horizon, bleeding out onto the ground. Its orange glow ranged from crushed up stardust to hazy tangerine that smeared the pavement red.  
  
Booker turned, and Jack jumped as he looked over at the two other children, who were trying to find what he was looking at.  
  
"Eh, the sunset's pretty," Jack shrugged defensively as he tried to deflect the look that Booker was giving him.  
  
Jack trotted to catch up to the group of his friends, trying to get his anxieties under reigns that he could manage.  
  
Something that would make him regret everything, was the look that Booker gave him.  
  
Pity. Only pity.  
  
Atlas watched Jack, as well, and so did Elizabeth, but they were looking on Jack with that pride that glowed in Jack's mama's eyes when she smiled down at him. Or maybe they weren't, but Jack wasn't going to look past their gaze.  
  
When he was near enough to the door to Elizabeth's home, she began to drag him and Atlas along behind her.  
  
"Come on, come on, come on!"  
  
She tugged on Jack's sweater, smiling back at him aggressively.  
  
That when Booker exclaimed--  
  
_"Shit!"_  
  
And he struggled to get past Elizabeth, almost shoving her down in his haste, and there sat the door. Two younger people in front of it, maybe late teens to early twenties. Both had striking angular features, and wore tan coats over suit-like business attire.  
  
A woman, and a man.  
  
Both of whom Jack swore he could recognize. Were they friends of his father's?  
  
"Hello, young Ryan. I see that your short time living with Jasmine has given you some weight to work with," Said the woman, as she scrutinized Jack's every move.  
  
Jack shifted his weight, his feet struggling to keep the rest of his body from dropping to the ground.  
  
The man said something completely incomprehensible, and Jack frowned even harder than he'd already been.  
  
These two were friends of Ryan. Jack had met them before. The Lutece twins--a man and woman who thought that they sounded cool when they said things that nobody understood.  
  
Jack, decidedly, did not like these two.  
  
They followed the small band into the house, even though Booker scoffed when they tried to talk to him.  
  
"Mr. Dewitt, if you'd have a moment of our time?" The lady fixed her sleeves, shrugging her jacket further onto herself.  
  
"Or perhaps we'd have a moment of yours?" The man folded his hands behind himself, tilting his head at Booker with a wry gaze.  
  
"I'm not giving you my kid. I already did once--"  
  
_What?_  
  
"And 'm not givin' her up again!"  
  
Jack looked over at Elizabeth, staring at her with wide eyes. Her gaze was downcast, her mouth turned down in a frown.  
  
She looked sad. She looked devastated. She looked--  
  
"Atlas, Jack. Let's go to my room."  
  
Uncomfortable.  
  
And, Jack followed her. The apartment that she lived in wasn't quite as big as he'd thought it was, of course--but that didn't matter, did it?--and so, it only took a few second to get across the room, past the twins, and into Elizabeth's small room.  
  
Toys were scattered about the place, with a few dolls sitting around--at the center of it all, a beautiful pile of books rose from the mess.  
  
Leather-bound and smelling of old, dusty paper, the books called to Jack as he stared at them. Even though, his brain would reason later on in life, there was literally no reason for them to do so. He'd've gone to them anyways, after all.  
  
Atlas made a noise, something cross-bred between a gag and a _hurk!_ as Jack traversed the tight path to the stack of books. He grabbed one, at random, and flipped to a dog-eared page.   
  
He read for a moment, not understanding a lick of the words on the page, and he turned to Elizabeth so she could elaborate.  
  
Elizabeth smiled softly, flouncing over to sit in one of the tiny Disney Princess chairs that adorned her room. Her smile was wider than Jack had seen before, and she plucked one of the volumes out of the stack.  
  
Jack balked, confused.  
  
Where he was cradling the book, in the crooks of both of his arms, Elizabeth was holding the spine of her chosen volume in one lax grip. Barely holding the book, she flipped through with her free hand, and began to read.  
  
Atlas trudged over, flopping down next to Jack with a soft _thud!_  
  
At Jack's amazed stare--How could Elizabeth be able to speak in _tongues_ and understand her words?--Atlas chuckled. He looked at Jack for a moment, appraising the look, as if Jack could be lying about his astonishment.  
  
After a few seconds of staring, Atlas said:  
  
"It's French. Y'know, 'oui oui?'"  
  
Jack shook his head; he _didn't_ know.  
  
Jack turned back to Elizabeth, attention thrown her way whole-heartedly, and she grinned that bright grin of hers, and read to him again.  
  
_"Bonjour,_ meaning hello, is a common French greeting. This phrase is also found in..."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interactions are welcome and encouraged!!


	6. It Takes A Lot To Kill A King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack enjoys some time with his new friends! But, is everything _really_ that fragile?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;:3 enjoy

_"Kids! Breakfast!"_  
  
Jack pulled Elizabeth's blankets off of his wide shoulder, sitting up and running a hand through his thick hair. He was shrugging as he struggled to get out of the cocoon that he had let Atlas trap him in, either for a joke or for an actual comfortable sleeping position.  
  
From the ache in his lower back, Jack was going to assume that the cocoon-bed thing was a joke.  
  
Booker yelled again, this time with an enthusiastic "I'm coming in there if you don't c'mon!" added in.  
  
Jack stood, already less groggy than he had been when he first woke up, and looked over to find Elizabeth already poised over Atlas.  
  
"Elizabeth, what--"  
  
"I'm gonna... gonna slap him."  
  
Her eyes are earnest, wide, and dark as she stares at Jack. They thawed from ice into a river, and Jack finds himself able to meet her gaze as she looks at him with a smile.  
  
"I--okay," Jack whispered, skittering out of the room.  
  
As he slipped into the hallway, pointed toward the kitchen, the _slap_ of someone getting hit rang out from Elizabeth's room.  
  
As Jack slinked into the kitchen, back pressed against the farthest wall from Booker, Atlas struggled awake with a yell and a _thump!_  
  
Jack slid into his seat at the table, smiling pensively, and Atlas waddled into the room. Following him was Elizabeth, who had a mischievous look in her eyes as she gazed at the vaguely hand-shaped blob on Atlas's collarbone.  
  
"She missed," Jack observed, feeling almost plain.  
  
He was still wearing the sweater from last night, stained though it was with watered-down soda pop from the movie theater.  
  
Next to him, Atlas and Elizabeth looked clean: Elizabeth in her little gown, which came to her ankles and swayed as she walked; and Atlas, in a white thermal and black sweatpants, sleek even in the dismissive nature of his dress.  
  
Jack had little time to think of the stark differences between them, however; Booker turned, and, with a smile, set out breakfast for the four of them.  
  
Jack smiled, waiting for one of the other to either A. say grace, or B. grab something.  
  
None of did, though, and it took Jack several moments to find put that the rest of the table was staring at him.  
  
Jack blinked several times, eyes going wide. What were they looking at? Did he have something on his shirt, other than stains? Was he not supposed to be sitting--was _he_ supposed to start grace?  
  
Jack swallowed, his throat tightening as he looked around wildly, searching for an escape route--as he usually did.  
  
Then:  
  
"Jack? Guests get first go at the food. Go ahead and get what you want."  
  
It was Elizabeth; charming, sweet, kind Elizabeth--and her suggestion was a welcome one.  
  
Jack grabbed a plate of food--not too much, never too much--and settled back on his proverbial haunches to eat.  
  
Booker made a noise in the back pf his throat, and Jack tuned it out as he began to eat.  
  
There was little talk over the meal, except for Atlas's rambling small talk as he crouched, low, over his food.  
  
"So, we got a cat last week. Right terror, she is; kept me up all the first night with her meowin'."  
  
Elizabeth would grunt, affirming, and Booker would nod his head--nothing but polite.  
  
And then, silent as a worm, something began to spread across the table. Elizabeth's ring finger twitched, rubbing over a stump where her pinkie must've been before. Atlas bounced his leg, absent-minded, and glared at his hands. Booker snarled at his plate. Jack's eyes glazed over with unspilled tears.  
  
There was nothing to explain away the feeling--only that it was thick, and heavy, like a blanket; smothering, cottony and dry. Dank.  
  
Booker stood, abruptly, and marched out of the room. Jack noted dully that Elizabeth jumped at his sudden outburst, instinctively going to cover the sides of her head with her hands. Atlas did, as well, but he did not settle as Elizabeth seemed to.  
  
"Sorry," Elizabeth breathed, her words barely rising above a whisper as she stared at Jack with those same wide eyes. Though, now, they were back to being solid ice-chips, rather than the pretty dark expanses of oceanic storms that made her look like Jack's momma.  
  
There was a word on Jack's tongue-- _no_ \--but there was no way for Jack to amend her pain. He would talk, he would banter; that alone would not help.  
  
Jack thought back on Andrew with a shiver.  
  
Evil people made sure that pain lasted.  
  
***  
  
Elizabeth sat on the couch, gingerly, proudly smiling as Jack taught her how to say _nice to meet you_ in ASL. His hands shook as he did, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from helping Elizabeth stay calmed. She had been getting over Booker's sudden anger, and had had a good start.  
  
And then, a knock at the door--and Elizabeth was on edge again.  
  
Another knock, and Elizabeth gasped.  
  
Another, and she was shoving Jack and Atlas toward her room, trying to kickstart their legs and make them walk.  
  
Another, and Jack and Atlas were being forces into Elizabeth's closet, pushed together tightly with a hissed:  
  
_"Hide!"_  
  
Jack stared around, meeting Elizabeth's eyes for a moment as she turned away from him. Pensive, angry; lips pressed into a thin line as she stiffly turned toward the door of the apartment.  
  
And then the door closed.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 please leave comments, they're my lifeblood!


	7. Maybe We Should Be Sad for A Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a lot to heal, and that isn't gonna happen in the kitchen of an eight-year-old girl in the middle of the day--but a conversation happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a doozy to write lmao

In the darkness, waiting, Jack found out three things.  
  
"Hello, Ms.Dewitt. How has your father been?"  
  
One: he is _desperately_ afraid of the dark. The swirling inky black that swallows him whole and wraps around him in velvet waves; he can find no solace from the black.  
  
"Is your mother around?"  
  
Two: Atlas, also, is terrified of the dark. But, it was less of an 'I hate this, get me out of here,' fear, the kind that squeezed Jack's chest tight and wouldn't let go; and it was more of a guts-wrenching, free-falling feeling of vertigo that whipped Atlas's head around so quickly that Jack could hear the way his hair swished against the clothing above them.  
  
"Ms.Dewitt, stop that crying right now!"  
  
And then, three: Jack _hates_ closets, even ones that smell primarily like books and pencil shavings. They were dark, deep, and reminded him of his Papa sticking him in a cupboard when he was younger.  
  
A thick _slap!_ from the other room, and then everything was sickeningly quiet again.  
  
Atlas gasped against Jack, hiccuping against the other boy's throat with a soft 'hup!'  
  
Jack... didn't know what to do; he was so used to being the one crying that he couldn't deal with someone _else_ crying, not even for a second.  
  
So that's why _he_ began to cry, as well, his eyes burning with the not-actually-having-to-cry acidic pain.  
  
Atlas lowered his hand to his own throat, trying to silence himself before he could start screaming, and Jack sucked in a breath like a drowning man.  
  
Jack reached up, fingering the hem of one of the coats above him. The material was soft, downy--Jack had the distinct impression that this was Elizabeth's coat, and that it was most certainly blue.  
  
Atlas bemoaned their situation, squeezing Jack's forearms and biting back screams.  
  
In the other room, adult voices drifted through the house--overlapping the quiet sobs of a young girl.  
  
"Where is Mr.Dewitt? He'd be here, wouldn't he?"  
  
"Maybe if we'd have come some minutes ago, we would've met him instead of my daughter."  
  
Jack was reeling, unable to distinguish the voices as easily as Atlas or Liz would have been able to.  
  
He squeezed the coat in his hand, running a thumb along the fabric without moving his closed fist.  
  
It was a moment before Atlas actually _spoke,_ though his words were squeezed from a clenched jaw; eviscerated and raw as his throat was.  
  
"They'll be gone now, boyo; off to find Booker, I suspect."  
  
Jack settled back onto his knees, looking over at Atlas. The other boy had his head on his knees, hunched over, blue eyes wide and staring at the closed closet door.  
  
Jack nodded, solemnly reaching toward the glittering doorknob. Before he could reach it, however--  
  
"You can come out, now."  
  
Jack cringed away, arms rolling instinctively to cover his chest, as Elizabeth ripped open the door. The light from outside cast her in silhouette, her face obstructed by the dark shadows resting over it.  
  
Atlas scrambled out of the closet, feet beating the floor as he fled the dark room.  
  
Jack followed more slowly, his eyebrows knitted as he watched Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye.  
  
She was nursing a deep red mark on the side of her face, one that was slowly growing and deepening, ripening--like a strawberry.  
  
She offered a hand to Jack, her fingers splayed--all beside one; her pinkie on that hand was simply _gone_ \--and Jack deigned to take it, laying his hand in hers.  
  
There was something to be said of her strength, Jack thought, as she threw Jack to his feet, _pulling_ him less than she was _dragging_ him.  
  
She looked pale, her face set in a grim determination as she glared around her--at everything but Jack, which Jack subconsciously noted with a solemn fascination.  
  
Jack stood there for a moment, waiting for Elizabeth to talk to him or Atlas--she didn't, so Jack walked over to the princess-table in the middle of the room and sat gingerly down on the tiny chair. He was careful not to break the thing, lest he have to pay for the meager damages.  
  
Atlas was standing in the corner opposite the closet, staring at the open door as if it would creep up and try to eat him if he let himself look away. His eyes were bright with fear, the shining ice blue of abject terror taking up his entire iris.  
  
Elizabeth looked likewise, except her fear had been quickly replaced by indifference. She was looking at the door to her room, as well, instead of that of the closet. Her jaw was set, her hands clenched at her side as she glared at her door.  
  
Jack couldn't help but find himself staring around in bewilderment, almost not quite getting what was happening.  
  
Elizabeth shook her head, pointing to the door of her room. The way she angled her hand...  
  
Jack shook his head as if to clear it, and moved on looking around the room. Across from him, the window was letting in the warm(er) air of spring, softly dusting the room with a coat of fresh breathing room. Right beside that was Elizabeth's bed, which had been wrecked by Elizabeth climbing out of it that morning. The nightstand stood desolate and lonely, dark and dismal in the low-lit room.  
  
Atlas disengaged himself from the corner ere long, his eyes still flicking around in sheepish terror. He folded his hands over each other, frowning as he looked at Jack.  
  
Elizabeth shook like a leaf, covering her chest with her arms as she crossed them protectively around her ribcage. Her mouth was set down in a frown, and she looked around the room with anxious eyes.  
  
Jack sighed, settling into himself as he breathed in the sharp smells of the musty apartment. Discontentment began to seed in the pit of his belly, stabbing his stomach and lungs like barbed wire knots.  
  
He moved toward the door, frowning as Elizabeth turned dejectedly toward him, her eyes glowing with something that couldn't quite catch.  
  
"I'm gonna... Gonna go call my mama."  
  
And he was already ducking out of the room, not wanting to feel the cold and painful stares on the back of his neck any longer than he needed to. As he was calling his mother to come get him, however--  
  
"I'm sorry if dad scared you off--he gets mean only when he's drunk. And then his friends come by; it's--"  
  
Jack turned to Elizabeth fretfully, his eyes watery as he blinked back unshed tears in surprise.  
  
"It isn't--you don't have to apologize, Elizabeth," He sounded the name out, not wanting to slur it and lose his point, "I--my dad used to be mean to me, too."  
  
Elizabeth sucked in a breath, and then laughed. Her eyes, Jack noticed, had been closed all up until now, and when she opened them--  
  
She looked _old._ And tired.  
  
"That's really funny--me and Atlas only became friends because our daddies are mean to us both. I guess we all have to deal with it, huh?"  
  
Jack laughed softly, shrugging a bit.  
  
"I guess dads just suck," Was all he could say as he turned to tell his mama to come pick him up.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna be skippin' forward to high school in the next chapter, so watch out i guess lol

**Author's Note:**

> God I love Jac. That funky lil motherfucker,


End file.
